It was our wedding anniversary and in the early 70s in the small country town we lived in entertainment was non-existent. So we decided to go to the drive-in at the town about 40 minutes away. We thought about inviting our neighbours to go with us. They were teaching colleagues and good friends but we decided that it wouldn't be so romantic if we weren't alone.
So off we went. Drove to the town, found a good pace at the drive in and got settled. Soon another car pulled up next to us - and there they were. Our neighbours!
Today we set off from home for a weekend away. We didn't start very early and as I was getting the mail from the letter box I saw the neighbours leaving and noted that his car was home so he must be having a day off. We took our time and finally stopped at a pleasant park for a pit stop and to eat our sandwiches. I pulled up, opened my door and the driver of the next vehicle waved and his wife came wandering up. Yep, you guessed it. The neighbours. They'd been ahead of us on the road but stopped at the same place to eat their sandwiches, just as we were about to.
What are the chances...
Friday, March 31, 2017
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Nobody tells you...
Years ago I thought I was the world's worst mother. Nobody told me about the lack of sleep, the feelings of helplessness when the baby cried and kept on crying, the loss of my place in the world as a competent teacher, in control. I was now a weepy, inept person.
There was a distinct conspiracy of silence. I'd read the books, knitted the booties and thought I knew what to expect but nobody told me it might not be quite like I expected.
So I decided that I would make sure that any new mums I came across knew that there would be some days that were just plain awful. Not to mention some nights. 'Just don't be surprised,' I'd say, 'If it doesn't quite all go as you expected.' If they didn't need that advice, well and good but maybe one day it just might ring true for them.
Fortunately there has been more written in the following 40 plus years about varying experiences of motherhood (and fatherhood). And I have not had to write my book which I planned to call 'No Weekends.'
But recently I was talking to a brand new first time grandmother. From my vast experience (my oldest grandchild is now 20) I detected a little moment of hesitation. The baby is born safely and is the most beautiful baby on earth, of course. But there are challenges. The father wants to protect his wife from too many tiring visitors and so he calls the shots. 'But she's my daughter', thinks the new Grandma. And then there's the matter of two sets of grandparents with different ideas and expectations not least of all what they will be called. 'I thought I'd like to be Grandma, one of my co-grandparent stated. But I was already Grandma to three grandies and can't a child have more than one Grandma? Mine did. An don't even get me started on who lights the birthday candles when it comes time for the first (and second and third birthday).
And what if one set of grandparents live close by and the others live half a day's drive (or half a world) away. How does that work out? And what about fair shares on Christmas Day?
And this is your grandchild not your child and so there is a time to keep your mouth shut about how things should be done. So, you've seen 4 hourly feeding and feeding on demand go in cycles, but it's their choice and whether to use disposable nappies or cloth, whether there should be a strict schedule, whether the kid should be swaddled, use a dummy, be in child care. It's endless.
So let's not have a conspiracy of silence on this one here. Grandparenting is great but not without its challenges.
Love and cherish - and enjoy those weekends...
There was a distinct conspiracy of silence. I'd read the books, knitted the booties and thought I knew what to expect but nobody told me it might not be quite like I expected.
So I decided that I would make sure that any new mums I came across knew that there would be some days that were just plain awful. Not to mention some nights. 'Just don't be surprised,' I'd say, 'If it doesn't quite all go as you expected.' If they didn't need that advice, well and good but maybe one day it just might ring true for them.
Fortunately there has been more written in the following 40 plus years about varying experiences of motherhood (and fatherhood). And I have not had to write my book which I planned to call 'No Weekends.'
But recently I was talking to a brand new first time grandmother. From my vast experience (my oldest grandchild is now 20) I detected a little moment of hesitation. The baby is born safely and is the most beautiful baby on earth, of course. But there are challenges. The father wants to protect his wife from too many tiring visitors and so he calls the shots. 'But she's my daughter', thinks the new Grandma. And then there's the matter of two sets of grandparents with different ideas and expectations not least of all what they will be called. 'I thought I'd like to be Grandma, one of my co-grandparent stated. But I was already Grandma to three grandies and can't a child have more than one Grandma? Mine did. An don't even get me started on who lights the birthday candles when it comes time for the first (and second and third birthday).
And what if one set of grandparents live close by and the others live half a day's drive (or half a world) away. How does that work out? And what about fair shares on Christmas Day?
And this is your grandchild not your child and so there is a time to keep your mouth shut about how things should be done. So, you've seen 4 hourly feeding and feeding on demand go in cycles, but it's their choice and whether to use disposable nappies or cloth, whether there should be a strict schedule, whether the kid should be swaddled, use a dummy, be in child care. It's endless.
So let's not have a conspiracy of silence on this one here. Grandparenting is great but not without its challenges.
Love and cherish - and enjoy those weekends...
Sunday, March 12, 2017
Public Holiday, Doctor
Ida was tall and strong with grey hair and blue eyes. Her feet looked like scrubbed potatoes, not always that well scrubbed, and as she strode along the main street and through the shops their was a distinct waft of 'old lady' overlaid with talc powder.
Ida had an amazing memory citing anything from the birth dates of distant cousins to the date her trailer registration ended. She loved nothing better than finding a connection with someone and she'd chuckle with glee if she found out she'd been at school with them.
Ida was a little strange and somewhat socially isolated so on a number of occasions she joined us for a meal on Christmas Day usually in the evening. The kids loved to roll their eyes at her stories, especially when she got started on the hoons who parked in the parklands near her home and used 'f words and k words.' They knew about the f word (sadly) but often speculated on what the k words might be. Or whether t was a spelling issue.
Ida suffered from some health problems and if she had been absent from our street for some time would often tell us how she had been 'flop' in the hospital.
One particular occasion she told us the doctor had chided her for not coming into the hospital soon enough.
Her response to him was, 'Public holiday, doctor.' She didn't want to cause extra work on his day off. This phrase became part of our family lingo. Much to the consternation of others, the words 'public holiday' are invariably followed by 'Doctor'. For example, 'The shop won't be open. It's a public holiday, Doctor.'
Ida was different, shunned by many, challenged in some ways, but she enriched our lives. And so on this public holiday (Doctor) I remember her.
With love...
Ida had an amazing memory citing anything from the birth dates of distant cousins to the date her trailer registration ended. She loved nothing better than finding a connection with someone and she'd chuckle with glee if she found out she'd been at school with them.
Ida was a little strange and somewhat socially isolated so on a number of occasions she joined us for a meal on Christmas Day usually in the evening. The kids loved to roll their eyes at her stories, especially when she got started on the hoons who parked in the parklands near her home and used 'f words and k words.' They knew about the f word (sadly) but often speculated on what the k words might be. Or whether t was a spelling issue.
Ida suffered from some health problems and if she had been absent from our street for some time would often tell us how she had been 'flop' in the hospital.
One particular occasion she told us the doctor had chided her for not coming into the hospital soon enough.
Her response to him was, 'Public holiday, doctor.' She didn't want to cause extra work on his day off. This phrase became part of our family lingo. Much to the consternation of others, the words 'public holiday' are invariably followed by 'Doctor'. For example, 'The shop won't be open. It's a public holiday, Doctor.'
Ida was different, shunned by many, challenged in some ways, but she enriched our lives. And so on this public holiday (Doctor) I remember her.
With love...
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